


Thinking Out Loud

by fallonmorellcarrington



Series: Thinking Out Loud [1]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, M/M, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallonmorellcarrington/pseuds/fallonmorellcarrington
Summary: Fallon is the daughter of the king of France; Liam is the son of the Queen of America. While Fallon is engaged to marry Jeff Colby, she knows that she never could. Liam on the other hand, walked out on the Van Kirks as a teenager, wanting a normal life for himself - but he has his connections to the world of royalty and excess whenever he decides to. Being in the right place at the right time the night of Fallon's engagement party changes both of them forever.
Relationships: Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley
Series: Thinking Out Loud [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157519
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Thinking Out Loud

**Author's Note:**

> A couple months ago a friend wanted someone to write a Royal Falliam AU and thus....this was born. It's not perfect, I'm doubting myself with it, but here's chapter one. I honestly hope that everyone likes it; if you think it needs more you're more than welcome to suggest something, but I do have a clear idea of where I want this to go (yes, despite not liking my work). I likely got things wrong re: royalty - making up fake titles isn't easy! Neither is making up a fake country, which is why I chose not to do that here. I hope you enjoy!

Fallon Carrington stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror in her enormous closet, twisting this way and that as she took her time, trying to find the right fit for the funeral she had to attend in a few hours. The chaise lounge against the wall was covered in piles of black dresses - short mini dresses, beautiful, classy cocktail dresses that hit at her knee, longer midi dresses, and then the her beloved ball gowns were hanging on their hangers around her legendary closet.

“I can’t believe I’m actually expected to go to this,” Fallon said, pure disgust spilling from her lips as she grabbed one of her older, but favorite dresses. It was a plain black, the skirt flouncing out at her waist and ending at her knees. The neckline plunged in the front and back, even moreso in the back, and she let Kirby get it to sit just right on her body before the taller girl zipped up the back for her, Fallon’s complexion paler then usual against the black silk of the dress. “Horrid,” she said as she moved out of the bedroom-sized closet and into her dressing room, plopping down in the chair of her vanity to get her hair and makeup done, too eager to ditch her phone. It had been going off all day and she was sick of it. Press releases, paparazzi photos from right outside the house - the Morell Palace, the Princess’s Palace - where Fallon had lived with her own household since she was born, located within the confines of the sprawling family palace and grounds in Paris - were getting to her, leaving her to more of her existential dread.

Morell Palace had been named for her mother, who’s family had donated land, money, labor, and time to build not just the expansive palace for King Blake and Queen Alexis when they married, but the smaller Morell Palace, as well as other buildings on the grounds. Of course, Adam was the oldest - but he had never lived among the family until now. Steven had turned out to be the son of Anders, the Duke of Lorient - something no one else had known until Alexis and Anders had been overheard by Kirby arguing in a wing of Carrington Palace that no one went into anymore. Adam had found his way into the palace and a DNA test did confirm he was the missing prince - but Fallon had been made Blake’s heir when she was six years old, and therefore she was the dauphine of France, and the second most powerful person in the country.

In front of her vanity in her dressing room to do her long hair, she allowed herself to relax as the woman, her stylist since she was ten, deftly worked with her longs blonde hair, pulling it back chicly and curling it, using a black silk ribbon that matched her dress. Her makeup was next, and once the natural look was applied, and the lipstick slid into her bag, Fallon got up to find shoes. Her favorite pair of Jimmy Choos were set out under a coat for her - she slid her feet in as she selected jewelry. A dainty diamond pendant as a necklace, an understated bracelet, a pair of pink diamond sparklers hanging from her ear, and the engagement ring she’d grown to hate so much. It wasn’t the ring, she reasoned; the ring was absolutely stunning and if it had been from anyone else she could’ve loved it. But it wasn’t, and she didn’t. That’s why she was going to a funeral tonight - for the ring that sat on her ring finger, the ring she hated so much. For someone who was being forced to go to her death, she couldn’t deny that at least she looked fantastic while doing so.

Taking a moment to herself to make an increasingly un-ladylike face, she turned around with her coat, slipping it on as her hair was taken care of, Kirby returning to her side, ready as well. The duo argued and fought; they had been born weeks apart, and with Kirbys father, Joseph Anders, the Duke of Lorient, King Blake’s most senior advisor, previously his fathers as well, she’d been deemed a suitable playmate and sister to the princess: that was how Kirby Anders, the 25 year old Duchess of Corolla, heiress of Lorient, was the half sister of Prince Steven, and the one who had overheard Anders and Alexis discussing it. Kirby was Fallon’s lady in waiting, or the modern equivalent of one - she stood by her side through everything, as her best friend, assistant, most trusted confidante, the sister she never had, and she never let the Princess out of her sight. Everywhere Fallon went, she went with her - which Fallon didn’t mine, since life could get so lonely and isolated at the top.

“Fal. Fallon. Come on,” Kirby said, grabbing her hand and leading her downstairs and out the door to a waiting car. “Juliette should be there when we get there.” She said, as Fallon gracefully slid into the back of the car. She felt the familiar nausea in her stomach, anxiety twisting it into knots as she made a face, instinctively crossing her legs at her ankles. “I’m just going to my death. I’m going to a funeral,” she said, as Kirby simply sighed at her, shaking her head. Fallon looked out the window and she watched the Morell Palace fade into the dark - she loved the palace that had always been her home; it had been built exclusively for the Dauphine herself and therefore everything inside had been designed to her perfection, and one day her daughter would live there, her granddaughter, her great granddaughter….

Thinking of that utterly depressed her, in a way, as the envoy of cars made their way through Paris. Mumbling something to herself in French, she watched as they came up to the Chateau Colby; it was a bit outside the city. The drive was lit by millions of lights as they drove towards the house, getting brighter and brighter until they pulled to a stop at the front doors of the sprawling stone manor set on a lake just outside Paris. A valet opened Fallon’s door and took her hand, helping the princess steady herself as her heels sank into the plush carpeting on the stone walkway.

“Princess Fallon,” the man bowed to her, as she nodded lightly. Reaching out for Kirby’s hand, she heard a booming voice as she looked to the top of the steps, at Jeff, the Duke of Gagny. Pursing her lips, she ascended the stairs, Kirby two steps behind her, as Fallon stopped in front of Jeff.

“Princess,” he said, taking her hand and bowing, kissing the back of her hand. Outranking him, she had the power to tell him to bow, and when to get up, but she just wanted to get him off of her. Forcing a polite smile, she shook her curls back, allowing him to rise.

"Jeff, I’m so glad we can celebrate our engagement with our families tonight, and share our love with our country and the world. One day we’ll be king and queen, and it’s so important that the world gets to see our love story,” she said with a sweet smile,She was so accustomed to easily saying lies like these, they slipped from her lips smoother than honey these days - it was all she could do to not stand there and scream when his hand touched her arm, or took her by the waist. Taking a sharp intake in, she turned around to face the paparazzi there, nausea washing over her. She no longer felt like she was going to a funeral - she was already living her own personal hell on earth.

* * *

Of course Fallon would compare her engagement party to a funeral, but in her mind, marrying Jeff was like going to her death, in a sense. It wasn’t what she wanted in the least, and she desperately needed to find a way out. She was furious at Blake, still, for having forced her to say yes to the engagement - how could she have said no? He’d proposed to her at Christmas, in front of the Carrington’s and their extended family, friends, and others who had been invited for the holidays, catching Fallon completely off guard - thank god her complete mortification had easily been covered up by surprise, and she said yes. Not like there was any other choice, she thought, feeling her stomach churning.

“Kirby, get me a Southside,” she demanded, suddenly needing to be drunk as possible. Blake was with Jeff, the two men looking serious as they spoke about god only knew what. Dominique was attempting to talk to Cristal, but the queen couldn’t be bothered with the Viscountess, which made Fallon smirk - at least her wicked step-mother couldn’t be bothered by Jeff’s mother either. The Viscountess was known for her scheming and social climbing, and Fallon just groaned, rolling her eyes as she held court in one of the small rooms off to the side, with her group of friends, her head resting against her older cousin, Princess Juliette, who was engaged to an Italian prince. The two cousins had grown up together as well - with Kirby of course - and the three of them loved whatever excuse they could get for an impromptu, spontaneous trip to Italy - though Fallon was anxious that her days were numbered on having fun like that.

It wasn’t that she minded Jeff…per say. The whole group had grown up together, with the two Carrington Princess’s attending the American School of Paris, but Jeff had been much more tolerable and sympathetic back then. Fallon still didn’t understand why her father had given him a title in the first place, but who even knew anymore, she thought, with a roll of her eyes and a flick of her wrist. At least he wouldn’t ever be king, something that turned her smirk into a giggle, concealed behind her hands.

“Oh Fallon, tell!” Juliette giggled, and Fallon couldn’t help as the pair of twenty-something royals dissolved into laughter behind their hands, whispering in quiet voices; their engagement rings caught the light of the flashbulb of a photographer, as they kept laughing on. She knew she could always count on Juliette to get her though a particularly unbearable evening.

Kirby returned quickly to Fallon’s side, sitting against her - rather, where Fallon’s anxiety dictated, since she was never comfortable around Jeff or anyone from his household - not even his sister Monica, who had also been Fallon’s close friend since they were young. Normally she trusted her, but since the engagement, the only person she trusted was Kirby - she was the only person who had never made her doubt her trust and loyalty.

The four women were surrounded by others Fallon knew; princesses, countesses, duchesses, ladies, girls with royal blood but no title. Always on her feet, her eyes darting everywhere, Fallon finally let herself start to drink, though she only ever let herself have one - in public at least. When they were safely tucked away at home again, locked in the expansive sprawl of rooms that belonged to the dauphine - Fallon, of course, though her first born daughter would live there one day as well - she would let loose, though she knew she’d end up having a screaming fit again, with Blake leaving her sobbing on the floor of her bedroom, as she so often did lately. But wasn’t that it? Wasn’t that what she was perfect for? Wearing the perfect dress and shoes, her hair and makeup flawless, as she accompanied Blake around the country with a bright smile, her eyes shining as they did so. Her Royal Highness, Fallon Morell, the Dauphine of France, traveling with Blake so she could learn a thing or two, but suddenly she swallowed hard. She was tired; no, exhausted. She was sick of being a pawn in Blake’s game of chess that no longer was about ‘securing the monarchy’. She was the Dauphine, his true heir - if she was going to be queen, she wasn’t letting Blake control her anymore.“Fallon, are you okay?” Kirby, as Fallon turned her head, angled slightly. Sighing, the evening seemed to drag on and on, with speech after speech - both from Blake, and of course Dominique, the Viscountess of Loches: Jeff’s mother. Fallon knew the night couldn’t get any worse unless -

“Hello,” came the sound of Alexis’s voice, and Fallon felt her stomach drop. Her head was buzzing, though she hadn’t even finished her drink, and she realized she was shaking. Touching her phone in the pocket of her coat - her personal decoy phone, since the iPhone she used on an every day basis had a tracker on it, so that her security team knew where she was at all times - she offered a smile to Kirby, Monica, and Sam. Steven was off chatting with Prince William; that was nothing new. Guards stood around the room and she sighed, taking a long drink of her Southside. Feeling the alcohol rushing through her body, she stood up gracefully, the crystals on her shoes catching the light as she smoothed down her skirt from the waist, her honey-blonde curls touching the center of her back as she politely excused herself.

“Fallon,” Kirby said, quickly getting up to come with her, and Fallon gave a shake of her head. It felt like the walls were closing in, the noise of everyone drinking and talking was getting louder and louder, and suddenly she was grateful for all the years she’d spent when she was younger with Kirby and Juliette, sneaking out of Morell Palace, much to the chagrin of the slew of nannies, au pairs, tutors, members of the staff, and more that had raised them. Were you even a European princess in this day and age if you didn’t sneak out of whatever home you were at to run off to some ridiculous party on the Riviera or in the alps? Perks if it was on a yacht or mountain named after you.

A set of French doors leading out to ornate gardens were her freedom, and although it was chilly outside in the Parisian night air (she had to admit, she’d not often spent most of winter actually in Paris….but tis the season?), Fallon came rushing out of the ballroom. Curls falling over her shoulders as she slammed into a half wall of stone, she bit into her lip, tasting blood as she looked below her: she’d been to Jeff’s….less than modest mansion too many times, but the advantage was knowing her way around here. Taking deep, gulping breaths, she tried to calm herself down, as her blue eyes looked up at the sky. Irritated that she couldn’t see the stars, she turned around with a little ‘hmph’ under her breath, though there was absolutely no way she was going inside - no one could force her, least of all Blake, to marry anyone: definitely nothing arranged. Well. Not arranged, but it wasn’t exactly her will either.

Her parents hated Jeff and had done a fantastic job at keeping him away from her most of their lives. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when Fallon had returned home from a year traveling with Kirby and Juliette, that she had even known he’d been given a title. She hadn’t known which had been worse - Jeff being a duke, or the fact that Blake hadn’t bothered to even call her home on official business. When she’d eventually, inevitably run into him at a palace event for one of her brothers, they had caught up, laughing about stupid things they’d done as teenagers - and she fell for him behind Blake’s back. Of course, when Blake found out, it was only hours before the rest of the world did - he had watched Jeff propose to her in such a nauseating way, and she had to say yes - not because her father controlled her, but with millions of people watching your every move, she wasn’t about to ruin anyone’s reputation. Privately, though, she’d stormed into one of his private offices and told him that she would never marry Jeff Colby, and she would never forget the look on Blake’s face as he dismissed every single person from the room, until it was father and daughter, and Anders - Fallon adored Anders, but she still wasn’t going to budge on this stupid engagement. The two men had a plan, however, and using the princess as a decoy was part of it - and she wanted to throw up more and more as each day passed.

Sinking onto one of the stone benches that littered the gardens, she let her head fall into her hands. When had things gotten so complicated? She was 25, the Dauphine and the Princess of Versailles, and a Carrington princess at that. Her head told her one thing but her heart told her another - she didn’t know what her head was telling her, to be fair, but her heart was telling her that she would be making the wrong decision, going back there. After a small moment, she took a deep breath and looked up, gasping as the saw someone standing in front of her. In the dark, with the only light coming from tiny lights among the hedges, and spilling out of every window downstairs.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chucked, and Fallon took the moment to regain her composure. The voice belonged to a guy; she couldn’t place his voice though but he sounded like someone she knew, which was equally disturbing her. To her own credit, Fallon didn’t flinch at the familiarity of him speaking with her, nor his approach. She also enjoyed hearing English without an accent for a change, and for a second she noticed something in his eyes. Longing? No. Yearning? Not particularly. There was just something about him that gave her a rush down her spine; it was a new feeling, she realized, as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Thanking whatever higher power was there for her in that moment, she didn’t step out of the shadows for another moment or two, until the man had offered her his hand to help her stand up. Standing in the dim lights filtering outside through the windows, Fallon shielded her eyes.

“You didn’t, I was just having some time alone with my thoughts,” Fallon said, forcing a smile as she looked over at him. Dressed in a tux, Fallon knew that he belonged here - still, she had never seen him in her life, and her iPhone read like a who’s who of royalty and socialites, with a dash of Hollywood and a pinch of girls from those few months she went to boarding school in England. “I should go back inside, I’ll be missed,” she said, though she made no effort to actually. She stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to decide how long it would take for someone to come find her.

“Have you ever wondered what would happen if you just walked away from it all?” She asked, her voice quiet, her hands clasped in front of her. Her shoulders were thrown back confidently; she carried herself like a princess, and that was when he realized it.

“You’re the dauphine,” he said, trying not to show his surprise. There was no trace of the hellion his mother always loved to say she was, or any negative thing he had ever heard about her. She was beautiful; with the lights falling on her hair and her pale skin, she was glowing, especially when she looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to keep quiet.

“Please,” she whispered, stepping back into the shadows, though she wasn’t crying. She couldn’t bear the thought of stepping back inside, her eyes falling to her feet. “I…I can’t marry him,” she said, glad her phone was in her pocket. In the next second, she saw guards with the Carrington crest on their jackets, and Fallon’s eyes widened. “Don’t turn around, but come with me!” She said, grabbing his hand and turning back into the maze. There was a way to get back to the car on the other side of the winding hedges, and since Colby Chateau had once belonged to her mother, she knew every inch of the maze.

Only stopping to take off her shoes so she could run faster, the pair eventually reached the line of cars, and Fallon stopped. She hadn’t quite thought this through - anyone would report back to Blake, and suddenly she was seized with terror, unable to breathe. She tried to run, and for what? Why? Because she felt threatened by a man? No, that wasn’t quite it - she was running because she was 25, one day she would rule France and all of it’s nations, and she didn’t need a husband standing next to her in order to be a queen.

“Here,” her newfound companion said, ushering her into the car he had come in. “You’ll be safe here,” he said, and she wanted to cry as she sank into the seat. She still had no idea who her savior was, but apparently, it was in his best interests to protect her too

“Morell Palace,” she said quietly to him, tucking her now-dirty feet underneath of her and closing her eyes.

“You heard her, we’re going to Morell Palace” he said, and she let her forehead rest against the cold glass of the window. “Your highness…”

“It’s Fallon. You can call me Fallon,” she said, offering him a small, timid smile. In the warm car, with a small light on where she could see better, she suddenly was too aware at how messy she was. Shrubbery had snagged the silk on her dress in a few places, with her feet dusty or outright muddy from running through the hedge maze - it had been much more fun to run around and play in when she was five, not twenty-five. Her curls were limp and had lost most of their shape; instead her longest pieces of hair were more loose, tumbling down her back to where her hair reached her waist. Looking out the window, she took a breath for the first time she had left Morell Palace, watching Chateau Colby fade away before turning back to the man. No, guy. He wasn’t much older than her, she reasoned, but the way he had seemingly known his way around Jeff’s home, the way he hadn’t questioned her when she’d asked if he ever wondered what would happen if she walked away.

The car went through the gates of the Carrington compound and Fallon took a deep breath, banking on the last resort she’d been thinking of in order to to get her out of marrying Jeff. Blake could be cruel, but she didn’t know just how cruel he could be - forcing his only daughter, and his heir at that, into marrying someone because it would benefit him. Not Fallon, him. As a new surge of anger coursed through her, she climbed out of the car, turning around as she stood up straight, her feet frozen on the pavement.

“Where are we going?” She asked him timidly, feeling much smaller and vulnerable - nothing she even let Kirby see her as, and she cringed internally at herself.

“Wherever you want,” he said, and she nodded, before swiftly turning and bolting into the house. In the privacy of her rooms, she discarded her dirty, ripped dress on her bedroom floor before she changed into something much more comfortable: leggings and a cozy sweater, especially since she was allowed to pick where they went. Her passport was in a simple tote she always kept packed with things such as a change of clothes, her phone charger, iPad, and a few other things. Her mussed hair went into a neat bun before she grabbed other things she could remember, grabbing shoes and a coat before rushing back out to the car, her heart beating out of her chest. She did it. Looking up at the palace once more, then over at the main palace, she swallowed hard as she tried to remember when the place she grew up and loved so much had turned into such a sinister prison.

Shaking it off, she found herself in the back again, trying to breathe the best way she knew how, but her head was spinning,

“What did I do, what did I do, what did I do, what did I do…” she murmured under her breath, turning around as the car began to move, watching both palaces fade into the darkness as she closed her eyes, feeling a few tears roll down her cheeks, and then the night swallowed them whole. Turning back, she set her phone to do not disturb, taking a breath. “I’m definitely Fallon, just Fallon. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Hello, Just Fallon,” he said with a playful smirk, trying to calm her down. “I’m Just Liam, it’s lovely to meet you as well.”


End file.
